


Man & Till

by thatsmistertoyou



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Sad Phil, basically its up to your interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmistertoyou/pseuds/thatsmistertoyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil gets sad and Dan comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man & Till

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to stage two of old fic posting: fics I'm actually still proud of! Some of these are a bit old but I think they hold up and more accurately represent my current writing abilities. Enjoy, and thank you for reading <3   
> x  
> Original A/N: We need more of Dan comforting Phil, amiright? (Also, I mean no disrespect to Phil’s friend, may he rest in peace.)

It was after one in the afternoon, and Phil hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Dan had only eaten breakfast and transferred himself from his bed to the couch to watch tv, so he couldn’t exactly condemn Phil’s laziness. He had time to kill before going out with Bryony. Still, it was unusual for Phil, and Dan was beginning to worry, so he climbed the stairs to Phil’s bedroom.

 

“Phil?” Dan called to him, knocking gently on the door. He pressed his ear to the wood, waiting for any signs that Phil had heard him. He heard a bit of rustling, so he turned the handle and poked his head in. “Phil?” he repeated, and Phil’s bundled up form met his eyes.

Dan closed the door behind him and tiptoed to the other side of Phil’s bed. Phil’s eyes were open, but Dan could barely see his face in the very dim room, which was illuminated only by the light that streamed through the cracks in the blinds.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Dan whispered, kneeling beside Phil and pressing the back of his hand to Phil’s forehead.

Phil sniffed. “‘S the 12th,” he said, his voice thick.

“The 12th…?” Dan repeated, racking his brain for what that could mean, then it hit him like a punch in the gut. It was the anniversary of the worst day of Phil’s life - the day that his friend from uni had died.

“The 12th,” Dan affirmed sadly, letting Phil know that he understood. Phil nodded slowly, looking at something beyond Dan’s shoulder that only he could see.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Dan said softly, trailing his knuckles across Phil’s wet cheek before  swiftly exiting the room and climbing down the stairs to the kitchen.

He fixed two cups of tea as quickly as he could - meaning he used the microwave. He could almost hear his grandma clutching her chest and wailing in pain. The shortcut was entirely necessary, though; Phil was hurting and Dan had to fix it as best and as quickly as he could.

Phil hadn’t moved a muscle while Dan was gone. Dan placed the mugs on the bedside table carefully.

“I added an extra spoonful of honey, just how you like it,” Dan said, climbing onto the bed next to Phil without hesitation, resting his back against the headboard. Phil scooted closer to Dan, his back pressed to Dan’s leg, letting him know that he wanted the company.

Phil was very pensive when he was sad, which was a rare occasion in itself. Dan knew better than to ask if he wanted to talk about it; he would speak up when he was ready. But that didn’t make it any less painful to sit there in silence and watch Phil succumb to the very thing that he taught Dan to resist.

Dan reached out tentatively, brushing his fingers through Phil’s hair because it felt wrong just to sit there in the dark, waiting for the tea to cool so he could attempt to get Phil to drink it.

Phil didn’t always react this way on this date. One year his old friends from uni - the other eight people who had lived with him - went out to celebrate their friend’s life and share their favorite stories. Phil had told Dan about that in great detail; it had been a very cathartic experience.

But he always shut himself in his room cried for a while on that date, and nothing hurt Dan more than to watch, knowing that he needed to just let Phil grieve.  

Dan reached over Phil, grabbing his mug and taking a careful sip. “‘S okay to drink, if you want some,” he declared.

“Maybe in a little while,” Phil said quietly, turning over to face Dan. He smiled up at Dan weakly. Dan’s eyes had adjusted enough to the lack of light, and he saw tears stream down Phil’s cheeks. He reached over to the box of tissues on Phil’s bedside table and grabbed one. He scrunched it up, softly wiping Phil’s face dry.

“Thanks,” Phil whispered, resting his hand on Dan’s knee. “Don’t you have plans?”

Dan shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.” Phil gave a small smile as his eyes drifted closed. Dan retrieved his phone from his pocket.

 _Sorry, I can’t make it. Phil needs me_ , he texted Bryony.

 _Everything okay?_ she replied not a minute later.

_Yeah, he’s just sad. I don’t think he’d be up to coming with us._

_Alright, we’ll do next weekend then?_

_Sure._

_Let me know that Phil’s okay, will you?_

_Course._

He locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, his eyes trailing back to his friend, who was crying again.

Dan wasn’t an expert at comforting people - not like Phil was. Phil always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say. Dan was alright at it. He managed to pacify his friends when they were upset over something silly, or his little brother when his first girlfriend had dumped him. Those things were simple; those situations would cease to bother in a matter of months. But when it came to something complicated like death, which couldn’t be resolved and only grew in potency over time, Dan just wasn’t sure what to say.

He couldn’t imagine being in Phil’s place at the time of the accident. Phil had lived with his friend - one of his best friends - for years. Not unlike Dan and Phil’s current arrangement, Dan thought, and the notion made his stomach turn over. And then, in the blink of an eye, Phil’s friend was gone. Dan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He sipped his tea, but that did little to help.

He looked back down at Phil, wanting to do something, anything better. He grazed his fingertips against Phil’s skin experimentally, from his upper arm down to his fingers, which were still resting on Dan’s leg. Dan dragged his fingers back up, and then back down, trailing down each of Phil’s fingers in turn. Dan hummed softly as he did so, to whatever tune happened to pop into his head.

Phil seemed to find the gesture soothing, because his breaths slowed and became less shaky. His occasional sniffs were the only noise in the room. It would have been peaceful, if the knot in Dan’s stomach would only ease.

After an indeterminate amount of silence, Phil finally spoke up.

“Hey, Dan?” he whispered, looking up.

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me a story?”

“Sure,” Dan said, clearing his throat and thinking for a moment. “There once was a boy named… Man.”

“A boy named Man?”

“His parents figured it would work eventually.”

“Go on.”

“And Man had a friend named… Till. When people asked Man how he found such a great friend, Man just shrugged and said ‘maybe you have no luck because the best friend is already mine’.”

“Aw, Dan, that’s sweet,” Phil said, giving Dan’s leg a squeeze.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, it’s just a story,” Dan said teasingly, and he continued to graze Phil’s arm with his fingers. “Anyway, one day Till got really sad, and so it made Man sad too. Man didn’t know how to make Till feel better, so he made him shitty tea and made up a silly story that had no relation to their lives whatsoever.”

“I think you’re doing a fine job of it,” said Phil. “I mean - uh - I’m sure Man did a fine job of making Till feel better.”

“That’s good, because Man has inferiority issues because Till is so good at these kinds of things.”

“Well, Till thinks that that is a load of crap because Man is the greatest. The end.”

Dan laughed. “That was an eventful story. Thank you for your contributions.”

“Our collaborative efforts always turn out the best,” said Phil, letting his eyes drift closed again. “Thanks, Bear.”

“Anytime,” said Dan, running his fingers through Phil’s hair again, using his other hand to type out a quick message to Bryony.

_Phil’s feeling a bit better now._

_Good to hear._

Dan looked down at Phil snuggled up next to him. A small smile curved Phil’s lips, and he looked quite peaceful; or, at least, more at peace than before. Dan shifted a little, rolling his shoulders and stretching his legs.

“What else can I do?” Dan whispered.

“C’mere,” Phil said sleepily, tugging on Dan’s leg. Dan slunk down until he was laying beside Phil, who threw an arm over his chest and settled in the crook of Dan’s arm. Dan smiled, pulling Phil closer so that his head rested on Dan’s shoulder.

“I’m here.”

“Stay here.”

“I’ll stay.”

“How long?”

“As long as you want me.”

“Forever, please,” Phil said with a yawn.

“That’s a bit impractical,” Dan whispered, but Phil made no response, indicating that he had probably fallen asleep. “But it sounds good to me,” Dan said, pressing a kiss to Phil’s hair and letting his eyelids droop closed.


End file.
